


Tears

by Shine_Like_Neon



Series: Fable II Drabbles and One Shots [1]
Category: Fable 2 (Video Game), Fable 3 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Reaver has a heart, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 10:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7753810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shine_Like_Neon/pseuds/Shine_Like_Neon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reaver attends a funeral.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Or particularly well proof-read. And very OCC Reaver. But I had this idea and I wanted to write it, so I did.
> 
> But despite all of this, enjoy.

"I will meet you here for our return to Samarkand." Garth told me grimly, refusing to look at me where we stood at the top of Brightwood Tower: "...And Reaver, should you be late...I _will_  leave without you."

"Yes, yes, yes." I rolled my eyes, knowing full well I wouldn't be late to our meeting: "I'll see you in ten days."

    

As per my usual...' _arrangement_ ', I made my sacrifice to the Shadow Court. The man sobbed hysterically the whole time (a hardened pirate, I think not), but thankfully that particular irritation didn't last too long. I already knew I didn't want to be in Wraithsmarsh any longer than I had to be; I was immoral, not insane. And after that, I was free to do as I wished for another year, no matter where I was. And free to do as I wished in Albion for the next eight days.

 

_Free to attend the one event I had hoped I wouldn't have to._

 

With a heavy sigh and - dare I say it... _no, certainly not out loud_ - an even heavier heart, I returned to Bloodstone and pulled the all black suit out of my extensive wardrobe. Black velvet, silk, lace, and the finest white linen made up a stunning outfit, along with my smartest black boots: shined to perfection. I cleaned my Dragonstomper .48 and slid it into its holster before examining myself in the mirror. I looked good - well better than merely 'good', but then of course I did. I had made absolutely sure of it. Just because the _occasion_ was dour didn't mean I had to _appear_ so.

She would have expected nothing less of me.

In Bowerstone, I joined the crowds thronging the streets on the way to Castel Fairfax, watching the sombre procession.

Garth, Hammer, and Theresa walked behind the glossy black carriage drawn by two jet black horses, just behind the haggard man holding the hands of two small children: a young boy, and even younger girl. His children. Or, far more importantly... _her children_.

Sparrow's.

Instantly I could see her face in her daughter's. She had the same eyes, same stubborn set to her mouth, and her colouring undoubtedly came from her mother. There was no doubt that Sparrow would forever live on within the girl, I could see that. Not just in looks, but in the spirit that lived in the girl's ocean-blue eyes, the determined set of her jaw, and the proud tilt of her head. Oh, she was her mother's daughter alright. I could already imagine the scrapes she would get into.

 

 _I wish you were here to tell me of the trials your daughter would have put you through, you know,_ I thought to the woman who had crashed into my life, bringing not just chaos in her wake, but also a strange sense of fulfilment when we parted ways: _It would have been fun to see you finally meet your match - those villains and heroes were never really a challenge for you._

_...And I will so miss our little chats when you came out to meet me in Wraithsmarsh, Sparrow. First to chastise me...and then because we understood each other far better than anyone else ever could._

 

Ignoring the sobs and wails of the masses, I silently slipped down a backstreet and made my way up to Castle Fairfax. The home of the closest thing I had had to a friend in centuries, or would ever have again. We truly had understood each other, Sparrow and I. She may have been pure of heart, but that hadn't made her naïve - nor had she ever let her morals blind her. She had stolen, lied, and killed - and not just when necessary, like the ridiculous Hammer and Garth, no: Sparrow had held her own darkness, and she let it out when it would benefit her or her cause. Just as I had learned to do - from her. And maybe she was purer than I had ever been, but she had not been _good_. She had been complex and complicated and interesting. She had been my friend.

Now she was gone.

I had begged her. _I_ , Reaver, the Pirate King, the Immortal, the best shot in Albion, had _begged_ Sparrow to take the same deal that I had, to extend her life indefinitely, when she told me that Theresa had told her she would die before I next returned to her. But she had just smiled at me, shook her head, and told me everyone had their time: and that this was hers. She may not like it, but fate was fate, and she would meet it with the same pride and strength she had lived her life with. I admired her for it. And hated her.

Because now she had left me.

Left me alone with these worthless fools, and the do-gooders who protected them.

 

_You weren't supposed to leave me!_

 

Somehow I ended up in Sparrow's private garden, the space wild with colourful flowers, soft grass, and in the centre a tall tree who's branches canopied the fountain I now leaned against, sipping Gangreen Fairy from a golden hip flask. It took quite a bit for me to get drunk these days, as a result of my immortality and my habit of over-indulging myself occasionally, but with this (and the second bottle I had stored in my inner pocket...and my knowledge of Sparrow's secret stash of Albion's finest booze), I thought I might be able to manage to become inebriated enough to forget today for a little while.

 

"Did you know my mummy?" asked a sad voice.

 

I looked up to see the Princess of Albion standing before me, cheeks tear-streaked even if now she was trying to hold back her tears, regarding me with interest and suspicion...but no fear.

Because she was her mother's daughter.

 

"I did." I answered plainly, because this girl was all that was left of my friend: "A long time ago."

"Oh. Will you miss her?" the little girl asked, coming to sit beside me, leaning back against the stone circle of the fountain just as I was.

"I will."

 

We sat in silence for a little while. I subtly put my flask away (Sparrow would not appreciate me corrupting her daughter) and pretended I didn't notice the girl's silent tears, just as she didn't acknowledge the faint trembling in my hands.

I had never met this girl before, unlike Sparrow's son (a boy who I assumed took after his father, because that level of insecurity and short-sightedness did not come for his mother), but I was glad I was now making her acquaintance. Because I knew that Sparrow would always be with and watching over her children, even from another world. I could practically feel her smiling down upon the scene - she was always saying her daughter could never sit still, yet she saw me and what did you know: instant stillness.

A choked laugh escaped my throat at my imagined response from Sparrow. She would have laughed, assured me that she was sure that of course I was the centre of everyone's universe, before she told me I was a fool - but a fool she was glad to have known. Those were her last words to me, after all.

She'd told me that she was glad to have known me. Even if we didn't have the best of starts.

She'd told me that she loved me. That was I was the best friend she had ever had.

She'd told me that she would miss me. Until she saw me again.

My friend had known me better than I'd known myself. I had assumed when I first started to tolerate Sparrow that I would continue on as normal when my friend had died...but she had known that wouldn't be the case. But now I knew it probably wouldn't be long until I followed Sparrow into the great beyond. Not long at all. Because I had survived much in my four hundred years of life: assassination attempts, monsters, even the ravages of time - but Sparrow was the first person to have actually touched my consciousness in centuries. I had loved her as much as I had ever loved anyone else, and yes it was a different kind of love from my first, platonic rather romantic, but it was love all the same. A man, even an extraordinary man like me, did not survive that kind of loss twice. 

 

"Mummy always said it was okay to cry, you know, even if you're a big girl - or boy. But I don't want to." Sparrow's daughter suddenly told me, her voice tight: "It hurts."

"Missing people always does." I replied, knowing her pain all too well: "But your mother was right. Because _she_ always was. And sometimes you need to let your grief have a voice, no matter how much it hurts, or else it eats itself into your heart and never leaves. You need to let it escape, so one day it won't hurt anymore."

The girl sniffled: "When will that day be? Because it hurts so bad."

"It will be a long time." I said solemnly: "But it's like one of the epic quests your mother was so fond of embarking upon - it may have taken her a long time, but that was okay; it was worth it. Because at the end of the day, both she and all of Albion were better for it."

Another sniffle, a stifled sob: "If I need to cry, you need to cry too."

"I do?"

"I don't want the grief to get into your heart." she repeated my words back at me.

 

Despite my automatic desire to hide my weaknesses, I didn't tell her that I wasn't mourning the loss of her mother, or that it was too late for crying to help me: my grief had already consumed me and left me a new, different man from the one who had lost his first love. I may not be that man...but I had just lost my second love. I was grieving for that loss. And now her daughter was telling me she didn't want me to suffer: caring for me the way her mother had once done, albeit in a more obvious way.

No, I didn't try to divert her efforts, or push her concern her away.

I just cried.

I cried along with the only child I had ever really tolerated, even as her tears stained my shirt and I pulled her into a tight embrace, as if I could somehow protect her from her pain - as I wished I could have protected her mother.

Later, much later, Garth and Hammer found me cradling the child in my lap: the girl asleep and I as sober as a judge. Before any of them could speak, I merely rose and oh-so carefully handed the girl to her shocked father, and left without a word. I owed them no explanation, and since I wasn't going returning to Garth to Samarkand, they wouldn't get one, either.

No, I had a new plan now.

Perhaps I didn't plan to live much longer. Suddenly I felt every second of my four centuries, and I simply couldn't go on without at least one person existing to interesting me, but there was one thing that I had to see to before I left this mortal coil.

Sparrow's daughter _would_ grow to adulthood. She _would_ grow into the power I was sure she had inherited. And she _would_ grow to be as great as her mother.

 

_I would make sure of it._

  

 

    

* * *

  

 

   

"You know - I thought you were annoying when I was alive. What you put my poor little girl through...I ought to kill you, you know." came an exasperated sigh from behind me.

 

I turned and smiled at the all-too familiar glare. She wasn't truly angry - she wasn't even pretending to be, not really. There was too much amusement glinting in those ocean blue eyes of hers for her to be even faking irritation.

 

"And then who would keep you entertained, my dear?"

Sparrow shook her head, opening grinning now...before she sobered slightly: "She grew up so strong, didn't she?"

"Just like her mother." I told her seriously: "She's done you proud, Sparrow."

"Thanks to you." Sparrow acknowledged: "Not entirely of course - in fact, I know you were a real pain - but I know you watched over her, even if she didn't. And I know you pushed her. She would never have been so strong without your help, Reaver. And I want to thank you for that. I am - and I hate to say this...I am in your debt."

"My friend, I was merely protecting your good name. One of us has to have one." I smirked: "And if you really wish to repay me...then, well, we have an eternity, I do believe. And I always was _very_ interested in knowing how Will worked."

Once again, I saw that brilliant, familiar smile spread across that glowing face: her blue Will marks shining even in the bright lights of this realm: "You've got yourself a deal, my friend."

 

 _It's over. I saved Albion once. Helped the next Saviour on her journey to do the same. And now I am reunited with my best friend._ I mused as we walked down towards what appeared to be Bower Lake, when Sparrow had called it her home, _All in all...not a bad end. Quite a good one, in fact._

_I made sure of that._

 


End file.
